The Bloody Border (16 page)

Then an explosion split the air, its sound all but drowning out the double crack of rifle fire which wafted down from the rim on the Mexican shore. On the river, the canoe disappeared in a sheet of flame and cloud of black smoke. Tossed up by the blast, a sizeable wave rushed on to the launches. Each boat had men flung over the side by the unexpected pitching and the one closest to the explosion took a considerable amount of water aboard as it rocked violently.

On the bank Eve staggered as the shock wave of air hit her but did not fall. The halt in Eve’s advance gave Belle just that brief moment she needed to recover. Coiling up her body, Belle thrust her legs forward and up with all her remaining strength. Reeling forward again, Eve took the soles of Belle’s ‘driving feet full in the pit of her stomach. A strangled croak broke from the Yankee as she doubled over, pitched backwards and crashed helplessly to the sand. All but spent by her final effort, Belle rolled on to her stomach. She could not force herself higher than to hands and knees. Yet she knew that she must try to escape. Weakly, sobbing at the effort, she started to crawl in the direction of the bushes.

At the top of the slope overlooking the sand bar, Sam Ysabel and the Kid watched the result of their shooting. When they came into view of the river, they had seen immediately what must be done. No bunch of Mexican
bandidos
ever born would face up to what Danvila and his men received from the launches. With the gang disposed of, the Yankees could easily catch up with the canoe. So there was only one course left open to the two Texans. Sighting their rifles, they planted a bullet each into the powder kegs. Some of the gold coins might land on the banks, but the vast majority of them sank irrecoverably into the quicksands at the bottom of the river. That left only one problem needing a hurried solution.

“We’ve got to rescue Miss Belle!” the Kid stated, coming to his feet.

“Yeah!” Ysabel replied. “We’ll take her out Comanche fashion.”

Running to their waiting horses, they thrust the rifles into the saddleboots, freed the spare mounts and swung into the saddles. Side by side, the father and son headed over the rim and down towards the sand bar.

Occupied with the work of bailing out their launches and helping comrades back aboard, the Yankee sailors did not notice the Ysabels. Golly saw them first, guessed what they meant to do and yelled a warning.

Painfully Belle dragged herself along the sand. Although she could hear the thunder of approaching hooves, the sound meant nothing to her. Directing their horses to pass on either side of the girl, the Ysabels leant inwards and reached down. Belle felt a hand take hold of each arm and raise her then carry her along. Shouts rang out as the Yankees realised a rescue bid was being made. Golly’s revolver barked twice, but its bullets came nowhere near the fast-moving Texans. Other men grabbed at weapons, their excited movements threatening to capsize the boats..

“Belay that shooting!” roared the lieutenant. “Mr. Snaith, run your launch ashore and bring Miss Coniston off. She looks like she needs help.”

With the bushes close ahead, there could be no more carrying Belle between them. So Ysabel reached across with his other hand, took hold and swung the girl’s limp body up before him. Supporting her in his arms, he used knee pressure to guide the grulla in among the undergrowth. Showing superb horsemanship, the Kid allowed his father to go first and plunged into cover after him. Letting Ysabel ride on, the Kid collected the pack horse and its saddles before following.

Not until they had put two miles between them and the river did the Texans stop. While the Kid made a fire and set up camp for the night, Ysabel helped Belle tend to her injuries. At last the girl lay on a bed of soft grass, her numerous bruises and aching muscles sending knife-like jagged stabs of pain through her. Yet she had barely felt them in the sick, numbing realisation that her mission had ended in failure. The Kid had brought along the packs which held her property and disguised weapons; but the gold on which so much depended lay at the bottom of the Rio Grande. Without it Klatwitter would not make a move, even if he could after the attack on the fort at Nava. Nothing the Ysabels could say offered her any comfort.

“I’ve failed!” she moaned. “Everything is lost.”

Little did Belle know that the failure had probably been the most fortunate thing to happen to her.

The date was April the 8th, 1865. Next day at the Appomattox courthouse, wishing to prevent further bloodshed and loss of life, General Robert E. Lee surrendered his sword to General U. S. Grant as a preliminary to bringing the War Between The States to an end.

THE END

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Scanned and proofed by Amigo da Onça